memento
by public enemy no. 5
Summary: not all nightmares are quick to die.


She woke abruptly, skidding across the concrete of the dream in her body, guiding it to full stop. There was cooling sweat on her skin, plastering her t-shirt to it like a chrysalis, but she wasn't metamorphosing into anything better. Sour taste like unripe fruit in her mouth. Bleak morning light streaming through the shutters.

Her hand went immediately to her pocket to find the seeing stone, groping around, until she remembered that it was gone. A fireplace, maybe. She was back in the real world again, not the Other World, but sometimes-

Well, it would be easier if the cat was still there.

x

School was dreary. The teachers droned through fractions, grammatical structures, American history, dates and places with far too much weight. At lunch, she ate apples and crackers with peanut butter and copied Wybie's homework. Absently, she doodled on the corner of a napkin, nothing special and probably something she would throw away later. It was supposed to be a cat, she thought, with the pointed ears the the crooked whiskers and ratty fur. Her cat. _The_ cat.

He'd disappeared, soon after the picnic at the apartment. Hadn't even paused to say goodbye. Maybe he'd needed to go somewhere else. He'd been mysterious, never disclosing more than she needed to know. She liked to think that he had found a better place to live, not the creaky old Palace. That his function, whatever it was, had been fulfilled, and he was reaping the rewards. She didn't really want to consider that he was guiding some other girl, helping her find her parents.

She didn't want to imagine that place again.

Wybie was gave her a light nudge. "Lunch is over. Did you study?"

"What for?"

"Spanish."

 _Spanish_? She tried to remember what Namara had told them on Friday, some quiz on the new chapter they'd learned. "Oh, jeez, I forgot."

"Here." He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a notebook, glossy and pink-covered, and turned it open to a page filled with terms. "It's not mine. I got it from Jenna, but I don't think she'd mind me giving it to you for a while. It's just the first twenty words there, you don't have to worry about anything else until, um, Tuesday."

"Shit." It wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that he'd bailed her out - it all added up eventually; she owed him. "Thanks, Wybie."

"It's uh, it's fine." Wybie smiled shyly. "It happens. Are you sick? You don't look so good. I could have my mom make you some chicken soup. She's worried about you too."

"Nah, I'm good." Shrugging on her backpack, she threw the drawing in the trash and headed with him to her locker. "I'll survive."

x

At night there came the dream, unfurling from greyscale into vivid, terrifying color like dye dropped into water. The Beldam, seated on her insect throne, haughty features cast in fragmented porcelain, her needled fingers whirring and clacking as she undid the stitches anchoring her domain firmly within the realm of the possible and remade them to her will. There was fear, an absence of joy and warmth, like everything good had been leeched away and only faded impressions of what had once been were left, just the way the Beldam wanted them to be - dead and ugly, trapped and yearning for the beauty of the Other World. She was there, tangled in the Beldam's web, eyes fixed on the globe that held her parents. _Silly girl_ , the Beldam told her, _you played. You lost_. She watched the globe play idly between the Beldam's hands, crossed all over with scratches, the frantic movement of the bodies inside as the Beldam allowed the globe to fall into the fireplace. She watched the globe split and the pieces crumble back into sand, formless.

 _Give them back_ , she screamed. _You promised_. _You promised_! The Beldam cackled and drew a claw down her stomach, splitting the skin. Her entrails spooled out, glistening luridly in the violet light of the room. The floor was breaking apart and the pale nothingness of the Other was rushing in to take its place; she felt a sense of incredible and infinite vertigo looking into the heart of the Beldam's creation, at the crux of her power. If she looked at it much longer, she feared she might go mad. But the Beldam held her attention again, its face shifting, the porcelain rearranging into an altogether more hideous configuration, and-

x

"You've been out of it for a while," Wybie told her during lunch. They were sitting in the courtyard; she was eating a bologna sandwich while Wybie popped vanilla-flavored wafers into his mouth, flicking the crumbs onto the ground.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, y'know. You didn't ask to be all spacey and sad. Well. Maybe you did. I don't know. Um." He wiped his hand across his mouth nervously.

"It's just-" _Just what_? the snippy part of her asked. _Cut the crap, you know exactly what it is that's been getting you down. That fucking dream, over and over again._ "I don't know, I think I'm just a little sick. I haven't gotten my flu shots yet."

"Oh. I haven't gotten mine either."

 _Liar. That's not the reason why._

"Coraline?"

"Yeah?"

"Is something bothering you?"

"You are," she snaps. "Jeez, just give it a rest, okay? I'm fine. There's nothing to it."

Immediately, she felt bad - the way she said it, how it all came tumbling out of her, scalding hot like touching the kettle fresh off of the stovetop. Wybie turned away a little, but she could see that he was hurting, and the guilt of it nagged at her, pressing her to do something.

 _Tell him._

"Look, Wybie-" And he did, glancing nervously at her for traces of irritation. "I'm sorry. I've just - I haven't been sleeping. Sleeping well."

"Oh, 's no big deal," Wybie replied. He sighed. "There's just some times that I think I know what you're thinking about." _He might._ "I was there too, remember? I saw that hand. I know you didn't want to talk about it again, and, well, it's fine. You've got your secrets; I shouldn't be digging around in them. I just, uh. You're my friend, alright? The first good friend I've had in a while." He wrung his hands. "Please don't hurt yourself, is all."

 _Tell him._

She wondered if she might. There was a charm to it, of letting go of that terrible thing and sharing the burden. She could imagine it, the exhalation, the pressure lifted from her back. The pleasure in tearing off a scab. "Wybie."

"You don't have to tell me if-if you don't want to," said Wybie, looking away all of a sudden as though he felt ashamed. "It's your choice."

"But I do," she told him. She knew, then, that she had to tell him what had happened, or let the truth fester and rot her from the inside out. "Wybie, I'm serious."

Wybie looked back up at her, still timid. "Well, uh, okay. Yeah. So."

There really wasn't a more elegant response that she could expect from him, so she began her story, leaving not a single part unmentioned. She told him about the Other Mother and the ghost children and the things she had seen in the Other Mother's sanctum.

"It was awful. She did something, willed it, I dunno, but she stopped pretending for a moment. I don't think she'd ever had to do that before with the other kids that came to her. I made her lose the disguise, and, and-" She blinked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her sleeve as Wybie made soft noises of comfort and awkwardly tried to pat her on the back. "God, everything disappeared and there was nothing, just this horrible abyss of pure white. It hurt to look at anything except her. She wanted me to _love_ her, Wybie, that ugly old bitch. Can you believe that?" She sniffed and rubs at her eyes with her fingers, smelled clean but bland school soap and grit. "She'd never had anyone who loved her, I think."

There was a pause. She gnawed on her lip and thought about how silly it suddenly sounded, now that it had been said. How stupid. The hand was but one phenomena of many, and Wybie - the real Wybie - hadn't been there to see all of them. What did he think of her? Had her story really been so childish while it was happening? For a moment she could feel tears burning behind her eyes as she struggled to compose something to fill the silence, but Wybie's hand was on her shoulder, gripping it firmly, and she turned towards him and couldn't say anything. Neither could he. There was no need for words; what was between them was instinctual, flashing, a marble gleam in the dark of a cellar.

x

They came back to the well and Wybie helped her push back the stone. She looked down and saw, at first, darkness, and then the glint of metal. Here and there what remained of the hand was rusting, the spontaneity of the reactions a reminder - this was real now, this was dead, not immortal.

"Okay?" Wybie asked her, and she said, "Yeah."

They went up to her parents' flat, and she took a long breath as they stepped into the drawing room. Dust motes flickered, starry, in the air. There was an anticipation about it, seeing the door so closely. Her mom and dad never had found a proper use for it and allowed their unpacked boxes to sit there, moldering, and she hadn't gone back to it since the last time. But it looked the same, frozen in its own section of time. Plaster flakes were scattered around it like snow. The key was gone. The keyhole and the shape of the door remained, still, carved sharply into the wall.

"Open it," said Wybie.

"What?"

"The door. You locked it, right? And then you dropped the key down the well. Nothing can get through now." He pointed. "If you really want to be sure that she's gone, try opening it."

"That's stupid," she muttered. But she was doubting, all the same, that the door was truly locked. That if she tried to wrench it open, it _would_ open. On the other side wouldn't be brick, but the portal to the Other World, and at the end of that shimmering tunnel would be the face of the monster, in the flesh, not at all gone but very, very much alive. "I couldn't pull it open without-"

"-the key. So you'll know, if it's still shut."

Gently, she pressed her fingertips to the door, feeling for an edge she could grab on to. Fingernails digging into the wood, she yanked, putting her back into it. Propped her legs up against the wall and pulled, hard as she could, until she fell firmly and felt her head thud on the floor. "Ouch!"

Wybie gave it a tug as well for reassurance. "See? Told you. That's not going to budge any time soon."

"Sure." He helped her back to her feet and she wiped her hands off on her jeans. "Who made that door, anyway? Was there another building next to us?"

Shrugging, Wybie replied, "Who knows? It's not that important, anyway; door's shut for good. Nothing's going in or out."

x

Mom was cooking for once, scrambling eggs in one pan and frying sausages in the other. Dad was brewing coffee and reading that day's newspaper. Her feet squeaked softly against the tiles, and she opened her mouth to greet them until her parents turned to face her and she saw their eyes, black-buttoned, and knew that she was dreaming. The awareness of her dream state did not pull her from it into waking; rather, she stayed, pulled up a seat and sat down, empty plate and cutlery set neatly before her, and waited.

 _You could have stayed with me_ , said the Beldam, speaking through her mother's body. _With us. I had so much more to show you_. She walked over to the table and scraped steaming eggs onto her plate, fragrant and buttery, perfectly yellow and fork-tender. _I would have given you happiness._

 _You wanted to kill me._

 _Only to cut away the parts of you tied to your world,_ said her father in the Beldam's rasping voice. _You would have been drawn to it, time and time again, without the buttons. And why should you have been? There was nothing there that could ever make you as truly, fully content as you would be here, by my side. Think, Coraline._ At the mention of her name, a chill went through her, a shock at hearing the sound of it in Beldam's mouth, the rustle of the syllables as they glided over and against each other. _Your parents had no time for you. You would search, for the rest of your life, for ways to fill your emptiness. To feel_ love _, real love, and you would fail, over and over._

 _Your race has always been flawed, Coraline_ , spoke the Beldam-mother. _I can fix you, if you want. I can teach you to fly, to change your shape, to make fire with only a thought, to walk in the spaces between worlds. I would do it only if you asked it of me. I would make you perfect._

 _You're lying_! The Beldam-father put down his mug and folded his newspaper in half, the crisp paper rustling as he set it on the counter. _I know you're lying. You told the same things to the other children, but you killed them once you started to lose interest. You stole my parents and tried to eat my heart. I'd never choose to be your daughter, ever_!

Her plate split with a shuddering _crack_ , cups and utensils rattling as the Beldam-mother glowered and grew taller, sharper, a crueler geometry taking form, the blooming of some terrible flower. The Beldam-father collapsed upon itself, spilling out grains of sand as the stitching on it came apart. Standing in the kitchen, gaunt and deathly, stood the Beldam, purely itself, snarling in a voice like glass breaking.

 _Brat_ , it hissed. _Ingrate._ _Mongrel._ _I was there before you were born, before the_ idea _of you had even been conceived, when your ancestors were still stumbling stupidly through the darkness_. _Of all the weak, greedy animals walking across this world, I chose you._ Its eyes seemed to darken a shade further. _Men would have offered their children to me willingly, in the days before there was speech, before there was light. And yet you have the audacity to spurn my gifts_ _\- after all that I've done for you_ , _you're as selfish as you were when you first arrived. Oh, you little wretch_ , it sneered, _I will show you horrors. Not even that disgusting creature can help you now._

 _I don't need his help_ , she spat back, and, grabbing half of the broken plate, she threw it straight at the Beldam's face as she hopped off her seat and began running to the door. She didn't stay to see it connect, only heard the screech of pain and the clattering of porcelain chips against tile. Her fingers fumbled with the door until she remembered the key; frantically, she searched her pockets and found it, intact, and pushed it into the keyhole, turning it to unlock. The portal glittered, black shot through with bands of luminous color. She clambered in and tried to close the door as she heard the Beldam's footsteps, only a single inch left until the Beldam thrust its arm through the gap and tried to grab onto her.

 _Get away from me_! she screamed, kicking at the Beldam's claw. The Beldam was peering at her, its face contorted in an expression of absolute hatred, and through the opening she could see the damage her throw had done. Underneath the porcelain was - she hesitated to describe it - a writhing, painful canvas. Tattered folds of some strange material were matted over red flesh, bubbling with sores. A shriek rose in her throat as the Beldam began to force the door apart, wood splintering messily.

 _I'll make you pay for that_ , the Beldam growled. _I'll_ -

Its voice abruptly died as she reached out and dug her nails into the exposed part of the Beldam's cheeks, sinking into meat that felt slimy and spoiled. Falling back, it began to claw at its own eyes, shrieking awfully; it was the kind of sound she'd only heard in videos where people were caught in industrial accidents, a leg or an arm sucked into a machine or a fire that wouldn't come off the skin and would keep burning all the way down to the bone, pain that was not at all logical but utterly terrifying to behold. She swung the door shut and crawled as fast as she could to the portal's end, panting, dripping with sweat even though the portal felt as cold as December.

Landing in a heap of limbs on the floor of the real drawing room, she looked back into the portal. The Beldam was banging on the door, sobbing to be let in. _Don't leave me_ , it wailed. _I'll die without you_! _Don't leave me, Coraline, I need you, I need you, please..._

The door still had to be closed. Trying to get up and find the key, she tripped. The Beldam was approaching, getting closer, she could see the shape of its spidery body filling the void, spilling into her world, dripping rot onto the floorboards. This was wrong, her mind told her. This shouldn't be happening. She was back in _her_ world, they'd left the Beldam behind and broken the key, this shouldn't be _real_.

 _I'll make you mine_ , said the Beldam, tearing the porcelain away. This shouldn't be real, but it was, against everything that she believed in - this was happening, the Beldam was cutting into her face, snipping off her hair, she wanted to call for the cat, for her parents, but they didn't believe, they hadn't been there when the house had _shifted_ , and she was alone and bleeding, and it struck her then that this was how she would end, and she wanted to laugh at how foolish she had been.

x

Her whole body was quivering as she dressed herself as best as she could. She went downstairs, tiptoed into the drawing room, and stared at the little door. There was a humming in the air, a tension that belied power, the witchery of the Beldam still potent and watching. "You're dead," she mumbled. "So just fuck off. You can't get me anymore."

The door did not answer her.

She went to Wybie's place and knocked twice. He greeted her bleary-eyed in a hoodie and, absurdly, a pair of pink fuzzy slippers. "What are you doing up so late?" he asked, rubbing his nose. "D-Do you need to study for the test? My mom's still sleeping but-" Then he took in the sight of her, eyes wet, and said, "Oh. Jeez. Bad dream? Here, let me make you some-"

She almost threw herself at him, buried her head against his shoulder and hiccuped and cried. Wybie held her, slightly unsure of what to do, as clouds covered the moon.

x

Both of them were on Wybie's mother's couch, a dusty relic of gaudy floral patterning and yellowed stuffing from the 70s. Wybie snored softly under a comforter, while she stared through the window at the trees.

She'd told Wybie about the Beldam, but that hadn't helped. The dreams were still coming. The Beldam was taking its vengeance in increments, wearing her down into a frightened weakling. Only Wybie, herself, and the cat knew about the Other World, but Wybie couldn't help her and she was powerless on her own to stop the Beldam's machinations. Only the cat might have been able to guide her through this like he had guided her through the Beldam's domain, but she couldn't find him anywhere she looked. At times she prayed to him, asked him to give her a sign, anything, as if he was a god. Each time, the cat never deigned to give her a reply.

There were times when she entertained the idea of telling her parents about the Other World. She could never bring herself to do it, to feel so childish once her story was done and they looked at each other and then at her, lips pressed thinly, rolling their eyes at their daughter's overactive imagination. The indignation at the knowledge that they would never really know what had occurred in those short days, what lengths she had gone to to rescue them from the clutches of the Beldam. The truth was lodged painfully beneath her skin, something that had to be cut out if she ever wanted a real catharsis. She needed them to know, most of all, even though they would never believe in the Beldam and the fear she'd spread.

At first, she had thought that she had defeated the Beldam, denying her a pathway into the real world ever again, but now she began to doubt that she had actually won. If no one would believe in the Other World, if her parents would never listen to what she wanted to say, if the truth remained trapped forever, then who was the victor? If her pain could be reduced to an outlandish product of her boredom, if it could all be trivialized, made insignificant, cast aside like it didn't matter at all, like her battle had never been important, like the other children had never died - that was the Beldam's victory.

Humiliated and fearful, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a white space where the Other World was supposed to be. If she could dream a dream where none of those events had ever happened to her, maybe she could be rid of the Beldam for good. She wanted to badly to forget.

There was no forgetting in the real world.

x

Wybie walked with her back home from school. She had a piece of caramel in her mouth, and she would suck on it occasionally, tasting the sweetness, the glossiness of the candy. They had a partner project to work on, and Wybie was telling her about a little pond in the forest where they could collect plants and bugs to bring to class as samples.

"It's pretty neat," he said, spreading his hands to show the size of the frogs that lived there. "One summer, I remember I saw this huge bullfrog, _this_ big, hopping across these stones and eating all the flies. He must've weighed a couple of pounds, at least. Wish I had taken pictures so I could show you."

"Come on, there's no way it could have been that big."

"It _was_ that big. You should've been there to see it. I bet it could probably eat you if it wanted to." He pulled at his cheeks and stuck out his tongue to imitate the bullfrog snatching a fly from the air. "Like _thiiiiis._ Ribbit, ribbit! I'm gonna get you!"

"Stop it," she giggled, batting him away. "Gross, Wybie."

Their cheeks were flushed, breaths steaming in the autumn chill. "You can always talk to me," Wybie said. "If you need to."

"I know. I just feel like... I don't really know. I went to her. I have to be the one to kill her, or else she won't stay dead."

"You don't have to do it alone." They were back at the Pink Palace. "I'll try to help in whatever way that I can. You don't have to face her by yourself this time."

"Thanks." She smiled and slipped her fingers through his, Wybie blushing a little, as they started back up.

x

Her mind felt weightless, sheer and vast, as she floated. She was trying to reach out and locate the cat. There was so much to absorb and process in this space, she doubted if she would remember all of it once she left.

 _Girl_.

His voice was the same rumbly bass, exasperated. The cat was slinking towards her, so she willed herself to move closer to him. They met at the center and sat down. _It's been a while_.

 _A year_. She felt bitter that he had abandoned her to deal with the remnants of the Other World - how could she have known what to do? The Beldam had antagonized her for months while he'd beeen off doing who-knows-what. _I tried to call you so many times, but you ignored me. Now you're back because - why are you back_? _Because it's finally convenient for you_?

 _I'm sorry_. He really did sound sorry, and she felt pity for him, old and tired cat that he was. _But I've been having trouble reaching you as well. I'm old, Coraline, and so is the Beldam. You barred her from entering this world when you broke the key, but she didn't die yet._ He regarded her shrewdly, seeing if she was understanding. _She is reaching the end of her rope. Without a child to sustain her power, she will die soon, and her realm will go with her. When she passes, I will leave as well._

 _Why_? she questioned. _I thought that you would stay with me. I thought you were going to live with us at the Palace._

The cat made a noise that seemed to be a laugh. _I think you already know why I can't stay. My purpose has always been to oppose the Beldam. If she's gone, then there will be no reason to linger here. We have both served our roles honorably._

 _What kind of role could she possibly have_? she wondered in disgust. _All she did was lure children to her world and then kill them once they outlived their usefulness. She tried to kill you too, remember_? _Or has that slipped your mind as well_?

 _Coraline._ He sighed. _The Beldam was not always as she was when you encountered her in the Other World. I have lived more years than I can count on my paws, but I can still recall when she was_... The cat broke off, shaking his head. _No. I will not speak of her then. Just know this_ : _she is a creature of consequences. Beings like her can only exist for so long, doing what they do, until their roles become an aspect of who they are._

 _Did you used to be different like she was_? _Were you always a cat_?

He gazed at her sadly. In his eyes she swore that she could see other images, fleeting impressions hidden beneath the catty intelligence that shone - a wealth of solitude, of sorrow, of joy and mourning intermingled. _I walked with her, in the beginning. I might have been man, or woman, or beast, or bird. We were still so young, and this place had potential, that was clear. Somewhere, our paths diverged. I do not care to remember the why or the when._

Straightening, he said, _I will lead you to her for the last time. This is my final duty not ontly to you, but to her. What you will do to her is your own choice. She will not last for much longer._

 _I don't want to forget you._ The prospect of losing him shook her. _You're my friend. Please don't let me forget who you were._

With an almost human tenderness, he lifted her chin up to face him. _If that is what you want, then I will not be forgotten. Remember me as the cat, it it pleases you._

 _I'm scared._

 _That's not unexpected._ The two of them were flying, the space changing. Ahead, she saw the door swinging open, admitting them into the portal. _But she will not harm you. The last of her power was expended in trying to coerce you through your dreams. She will face you on even terms._

 _Goodbye, Coraline._

x

She landed and studied her surroundings. The cat had taken her back to the sanctum, the Beldam's web. Around her, debris drifted in lazy circles. She spied a piece of the cockroach chair, lamps, the bed she had slept in, the Other Father's piano.

The Beldam was hunched over, her body leaking sand. Her face rose as she approached, and she finally saw what lay beneath the mask.

There was a hole for the mouth filled with crooked brown teeth. No nose or eyes. Crimson flesh heaved, sticky with fluid, while the ragged strips she had already seen fluttered limply in a ghost wind, unfurling and crumbling into powder.

 _You returned_ , the Beldam croaked. She cackled weakly. _Are you going to finish the job_?

 _I don't have to. You can do that well enough by yourself._

 _There was such life in you_ , said the Beldam. _You might have lasted me another century and a half; I could have stretched it out long enough until I found someone else. Look at me now._ To demonstrate, she lifted an arm spotted with rust. it was disintegrating even as she spoke, flecks of tarnished metal falling off and through the ground. _I'm a disgrace._

 _You never should have been made, whatever you are_ , she snapped. _You're pathetic. The cat told me about you._

 _Did he_? She cackled again, semingly delighted. _He didn't tell you everything, I imagine._

 _He told me enough. You're no monster. You're too pitiful to be a monster. You're just some ugly old thing past its prime._

 _Pity._ The Beldam bowed her head, whole body slumping. _I never wanted pity. I only wanted to be whole. To dull the ache. To not be empty._

 _So you lied._

 _Is that so bad_? _I made them happy, truly, for a time. I gave them pleasures that their parents would never have allowed them to indulge in. I gave them all I had, and they returned the favor._ She - it - was breaking apart faster and faster; her hair fell in matted clumps and her limbs withered, but her voice never once wavered or showed hesitation. _I_ _never witheld the truth. I showed them the buttons and let them choose whether to stay with me or to return to their families, and if they chose to stay, would you begrudge them their decision_?

 _It wasn't fair. You cheated them out of their lives._

 _Their lives_? _Each one would have ended the same. I gave them a greater purpose than what their world intended. I deserved their hearts, every last one. I deserved to be happy._ It was weeping, pus and black tears dripping down the sides of its face. _That was my right, and it was kept from me. I deserved my own happiness._

 _You can't take it from other people,_ she murmured. _You'll never find happiness that way._

 _Let me have my death_ , it begged. _Kill me. I can feel your anger, your pain. Kill me and be done with it._

It was a tempting offer. What it might feel like, perhaps, to wrap her hands around the Beldam's throat and choke it, feel the rush in inflicting pain on the creature that had hurt her. To tear its limbs off and bludgeon it with them. To crush the soft, grotesque meat of its head into pulp. There was a pleasure to be found in cruelty, if she took it.

But that was the Beldam's way, to make others suffer to sate its own agony. She would not stoop to its level.

 _I won't do it_ , she told it. _I won't be like you. You'll never change me._

Giving a final cry, the Beldam burst apart, blowing her back. A constellation of darkness rose into the sky as she felt herself being ripped from the Other World, wreathed in the colors of the portal, falling.

x

The stairs creaked as she went down to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. As she drank, she thought. She had to know for sure if it had worked. Carefully, she crept to the drawing room and peered inside, searching for the door.

It was gone, with not even an indentation in the wallpaper to mark where it used to be. Her hands pressed against its former spot, and she felt breathless, lighter than air.

"Coraline?"

Her father stood in the doorway clutching his coffee mug, hair tousled and glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose. "Do you know what time it is, missy?"

"Mmhmm. I was just getting a drink."

"What are you doing in here then?"

"I..." Her mind flashed to the cat and what he had told her. "...thought I forgot something here, but never mind. It's nothing."

"Huh." He took a cautious step in and coughed, fanning the dust away from his nose. "Jesus, it's dirty. I'll have to vacuum it this weekend, it's practically a biohazard. And you're helping out."

"Wybie and I were planning to go to the pond. School project. We've got to collect biology samples."

He exhaled, long-suffering. "Well, I guess I'll just have to ask your mother. You'd better get back to sleep, you've got school tomorrow and Mom won't be happy if you oversleep again."

They walked through the corridor and she turned to go up the stairs while he headed for his office. Just before he was out of range of hearing, she called, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Good night."

"Good night, Coraline."

* * *

for zero. it didn't turn out quite the way i planned, but i hope you like it.


End file.
